


A Challenge

by TeaandBanjo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Dubious Roleplay, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/pseuds/TeaandBanjo
Summary: The Inspector and Phryne share a drink, and discuss a case.  Phryne has an idea.  Can Jack tell her "No"?





	A Challenge

Jack leaned elegantly against the mantlepiece, and contemplated the bottom of his glass.  Phryne had not yet decided if he posed to look manly and attractive (which he did) or because it gave him a complete view of the room, and no one could get behind him if a scuffle broke out.

Phryne lounged comfortably in her chair.  She knew that in the event of a scuffle, Mr Butler had her back.

“The explanation for the murder was rather unusual.”  Jack gazed in her direction.

“Do tell!”  Phryne leaned forward, and batted her eyelashes.

“The deceased and a young lady had developed a sexual fascination with the act of murder,” explained Jack, who seemed to be uncertain if this was a humorous story or not. “On that particular evening, the two of them could not agree on who’s turn it was to be the corpse.  The argument became quite heated, and the lady grabbed a knife which was intended for the simulated death, and used it to defend herself.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”  Phryne pouted, although it was mostly for effect.

“It was very clear what happened.” Jack seemed mildly amused.

“That is quite strange.  How did you know that the two of them intended to play dead, instead of create the real thing?”  She waved her glass in his direction.

“There was rather a lot of raspberry jam on the scene, and they had a camera and a photo album full of previous ‘death scenes’.  The lady was quite distraught. A terrible tragedy. I’m glad the prosecutor gets to figure out how to try this one.” Jack shrugged.

Phryne rose, as gracefully as possible after the amount of scotch she had consumed, and approached the Inspector.  He smiled and put a hand against her waist.

“I’d like to try that,” she said, grasping his tie and examining the knot.

“Excuse me?”  He frowned, and his hand clutched her a bit more tightly.

“A murder sounds positively thrilling.  For play, I mean.” She smiled up at him.

“I’m not so sure.  Did you see yourself as the perpetrator or the victim?”  He looked and sounded worried.

“I think,” she whispered softly, “I would make an appealing victim.”

“I’m not sure I could be convincing killer.”  Jack swallowed nervously.

“That’s exactly what a cold-blooded killer would say!”  Phryne was not about to argue the fact that a man who had survived the trenches in Europe might not have been cold-blooded, or even actually killed anyone, but he would be familiar with the state of mind.   _Not important, it’s a game._

“Did you have a particular method you wanted to die, Miss Fisher?”  Jack downed the rest of his drink, and placed the empty glass on the mantle.  

“I’m sure you will come up with something.”  Phryne licked her upper lip.

“Am I supposed to have a motive as well?”  His expression was unreadable.

“Money is always a good one, but surprise me,” she said, lightly.   _Well, if this doesn’t work, there are some large fans in the back of the wardrobe._

“So I can attack you with whatever I want?”  His look was suddenly scheming.

“Of course!”  

“Excellent”  Jack’s smile was now surprisingly predatory.  “First, I will escort you upstairs to your boudoir as if we are going to have a perfectly normal evening of debauched sex.  I don’t want to tip my hand just yet.”

“Of course you don’t!”  Phryne pressed herself against him.  “Come upstairs, handsome!”

  


“So, why are you planning on killing me,” asked Phryne, as Jack slowly removed her slip and pressed his lips against her neck.

“It turns out that your will leaves me quite a lot of money and property, Miss Fisher.”  His voice was a soft rumble that she associated with other things.

“I didn't know that.”  She removed his tie, and rather roughly pulled off his vest.

“Rather a good forgery, truthfully, but you won't be available to point that out.”   His fingers traced the curve of her waist, and she shivered.

“A cunning plan, Jack.  When do you intend to implement it?”  She stood, and he seemed to be focused on removing her stockings and lingerie slowly, while touching as much skin as possible.  As if he really was beginning an evening of debauchery. The effect was quite thrilling.

“I’m still working myself up to the actual act, Miss Fisher.” He looked up at her and smiled softly. “You will just have to go along until then.”

“I see,” she said, suspiciously, and proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing in order to locate possible concealed weapons.

Jack’s first attempt to distract her from her impending doom began with kisses, and fingertips sliding slowly down her spine to rest on her arse.  Said attempt ended some time later, with some much more intimate attention. The sensations of his mouth and hands on her body had convinced her that it was perfectly reasonable to sprawl naked across a bed while a potential murderer caused you to shudder with gratified lust.

“That was some very convincing screaming, Miss Fisher.  Are you still alive?” He crawled back up the the bed, and gently pinned her with his body. 

“I think so.”  She stretched.

“Well, that certainly wasn’t successful.” His breath was warm against her ear.

“No.”  Phryne wiggled under him, and smiled. “What were you attempting?”

“In certain cases, the coroner rules that a death was caused by a sexual act.” 

“Those are all old, frail people,” Phryne protested, reaching a hand between their two bodies.

“So, you agree that this has the potential to cause death, and if I intended that result, than I am a murderer?” 

“I didn't even feel threatened, Jack!”

“Well, obviously someone in your fine physical condition will require a much larger dose to produce the required effect. So if I intend to kill you in this fashion, I am clearly going to have to work harder.”

“You know I will have to defend myself, Jack.”

“I’m counting on it.”

  
  
  


Jack’s eyes were closed, and he was practically purring. His hands were relaxing from the death-grip he had on her hips not that long ago.

Phryne sat up, and climbed over to the unoccupied side of the bed.  She glanced out the window. Was that the sky turning a tiny bit lighter in the east?  

His eyes flicked open for a moment, and his expression shifted.  Now he looked tired, and the dark circles under his eyes were obvious.

One large hand grasped her forearm, and Phyne felt a moment of worry.

“I wasted my life, Phryne!”  His voice was a whisper, hoarse.  “I should have spent it pursuing beautiful cars and fast women.”

_What was wrong with Jack?_  She put a palm against his bare chest, and training from 1914 was lining up in her brain.

“Tell them!”  He took a giant breath, as if gathering strength.  His heartbeat was steady under her palm, and there was a tiny flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t go, Jack!”  Phryne took her cue.  Actors!

“Tell them,” he rasped.  “Tell them I died like a man!”  

“No, Jack!”  Phryne pretended to sob against his shoulder, as he went awkwardly limp against the satin pillows.  What was she supposed to say next? “I need you! Don’t go!”

She held him for more than a minute.   _Am I doing this to make him hold the pose?  Or is this just a reason to keep feeling the heartbeat, and watch his breathing?_  Her own pulse slowed.

The early morning sound of birds drew her attention.  She slid away and off the bed.

Exhaustion was dragging at her steps on the way to her bathroom.  She washed up a little, and found paper and a pencil.

“Breakfast for two, please.  *Not before NOON!*” she wrote.

She slid the paper under the door and into the hall.  

Now that all the lights were out, Phryne pulled the covers over Jack, who was snoring softly.  The empty space next to him was a perfect size and shape for her to curl herself, and she had just enough time to set her head on the pillow before she fell deeply asleep.


End file.
